Number One
by Tarafina
Summary: "Maybe I'm not the nicest or the smartest or hell, even the coolest guy you'll ever date, but… I'll try the hardest." PxR


**Title**: Number One  
**Category**: Glee  
**Genre**: Romance/Humor/Drama  
**Ship**: Rachel/Puck  
**Rating**: Teen  
**Warning(s)**: Coarse Language, Sexual Innuendo  
**Prompt**: How Rachel got to wear the #1 jersey in the Super Bowl episode – puckrachel drabble meme  
**Warning(s)**: Pre-Sue's Shuffle, Disregards Silly Love Songs entirely.  
**Word Count**: 1,791  
**Summary**: "Maybe I'm not the nicest or the smartest or hell, even the coolest guy you'll ever date, but… I'll try the hardest."

**_Number One_**  
-1/1-

He finds her in the locker room, reading a list over and over like it's lines for her groundbreaking Broadway role. "You're only gonna be wearing it for a couple hours, Berry. Just pick a jersey already."

She whirls on him, hair flying as her eyes narrow. "This is an important process, _Noah!_" She scoffs at his insensitivity. "How am I to reach my full potential as a football player if I'm wearing the wrong number?" She chews her lips, eyes darting off as if she was playing out the scene in her head. "One of the most important games of the year and I'm playing a part, only to foil the whole genius plan by wearing 72 when I should be in 4…" She shakes her head. "No… I'll pick the right number." She inhales deeply and then lets it out slowly. "Okay… What historic events to you think of when you hear 45?" She raises her brows inquisitively, demanding that he play a part in her _process_.

He rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. "I dunno… Didn't Hitler eat a bullet in '45?"

She nods, tapping her chin. "Yes… You're right. He did commit suicide on April 30th, 1945… I suppose that does hold some bearing." She frowns. "Although, in my opinion, it would have been much more satisfactory if he had paid for his heinous crimes rather than taken the coward's way out." She scowls. "Now I won't be able to wear that number." She sighs and scratches out the option before raising a brow in his direction. "_Now _do you see my problem?"

"What? That you're bat-shit crazy?" He snorts. "Knew it." He shrugs. "S'kinda hot sometimes…"

She huffs at him loudly. "Coach Beiste said there were a limited amount of jerseys that would fit my petite frame," she says, ignoring his suggestive smirk. "If you'll help me go through the list of numbers and adequately pick one out, I would be most appreciative."

He cocks a brow. "_How _appreciative?"

"Noah…" she sighs, eyes falling away. "We've discussed this."

"No…" He frowns. "I bring it up and you gimme some lame excuse about how eventually Finn's gonna up from his douche coma and realize you're awesome… He's _not_ and if he does, you shouldn't let him back up in your Berry." Glaring at her, he starts walking around the room, trying to focus on anything _except _the bundle of crazy that he was so totally too in to. "What part of 'dude's a _douche' _don't you get?"

She sighs, long and suffering and then turns to look at him. "Noah… I don't understand your dislike toward Finn… I mean, yes, I could understand if I were Quinn and you were struggling with your former feelings for her and the confusion of whether she cared for you or Finn, but—"

"I don't care about Quinn," he snorts. "Ship's sailed. She's with Big-Mouthed Ken, remember?" He shrugs. "And it's not _Finn _I don't like… most of the time. But _dude_… He's such a prick to you!" He lifts his shoulders high for emphasis. "The way he treats you sometimes… He's a _tool! _And you're crazy, like, totally off your nut, but…" He sighs, his jaw ticking. "You deserve better than that."

"Better than _what_, exactly?" Her brows furrow. "Because I haven't noticed this distressing behavior you're implying. If anything, Finn has been very patient with me and my lack of social standing. If anyone was in the wrong during our relationship, it was me. I shouldn't have resorted to vengeance. And I can't apologize enough for using you for my own selfish deeds. Neither you nor Finn deserved that and—"

"Are we like totally forgetting that he boned Santana and never told you?" He snorts, angry now. "Or that you just _kissing _me was somehow _worse_…?" He shakes his head. "Or that the whole time he was with Quinn, he was into _you _and kept making you think something could happen but then went right back to her?" He holds up a hand when she moves to interrupt. "And don't-_don't _blame it on the baby, Rachel. 'Coz Finn had a chance before that and he didn't take. Hell, he had a chance _after _the Beth thing and he didn't take it… It took Jesse St. Assface to get him to man-up!"

Her face falls and he feels like a dick, but he's not backing out now.

"Look… Finn's a good guy, he's just… He's not good _enough_." His eyes dart away and he knows, deep down, that neither is he, but hell, at least he'll try to be, at least he _owns _his shit. "'n 'm not… I'm not saying I'll be the best guy you ever get with, but… At least when you're with me, you'll know you're the only one I want… You'll know that the guy you're falling for is falling for you just as hard… That I won't _change _you or-or lie to you or be _ashamed _to be with you." He stares at her, sighing. "Maybe I'm not the nicest or the smartest or hell, even the coolest guy you'll ever date, but… I'll try the hardest."

She stares up at him, her mouth ajar slightly. "Noah, I-I had no idea you felt so deeply about…"

"You?" He kinda laughs, his eyes darting to the floor. "Y'know, Berry, you were so hooked on Finn, I could dance naked in front of you and you'd hardly blink…" He frowns. "And I never really got it…" He shakes his head. "I mean, yeah, he's cool in a really _dopey _kinda way, but… You're all like fire and passion and he's just… He's never gonna get that part of you. Never gonna get why you love Broadway or why New York matters so much or why you spend so much time dancing and singing… 'Coz he doesn't care if he gets stuck in Lima, he doesn't care if he never goes anywhere or makes a name for himself… He just likes having a girl on his arm, a girl that think he's the whole fucking world and you… You're worth more than just Finn Hudson's arm candy." He looks away then, 'coz he's said a lot and he's out there on the line and he's just waiting for her to cut him loose and walk away.

She reaches for him and her little midget hand touches his chest, sliding up until he raises his head to look at her. She smiles slowly. "If there's anybody I believe in besides myself, it's you, Noah…" She stares at him searchingly, seriously. "You will make it out of Lima and you will do wonderful things. Be them in music or some other unexpected talent. What I know for sure is that no matter what people say or think, you will surprise _everyone _when you take this world by storm."

"'Cept you," he murmurs, his brow knotted. "'Coz you're the only one around here who thinks I'm goin' anywhere…"

"And my record speaks for itself, really." She smirks. "I'm rarely wrong."

He laughs under his breath and stares at the flush that fills her cheeks, at the way her teeth bite her lip and her lashes flutter against her cheeks. "Number one," he says.

Her eyes dart up to his, dazed and distracted. He smirks, 'coz she was totally just leaning in and staring at his mouth.

"The jersey. You should wear number one…" He reaches for her, tucks her dark hair behind her ear and strokes the shell with his fingers before letting them slide slowly, teasingly down her neck, feeling the pounding of her heartbeat there. "'Coz you're always gonna be number one, Berry… In everything…" he nods slowly. "And for me."

Her lips quirk in a soft smile. "If we're using our numbers as ranks, then I think yours is sorely high… And unfortunately, we can't wear the same number. Although, it would cause some confusion and perhaps help us on the field." She turns her head and grins up at him. "But I think with a little time, my silly infatuation with a boy who quite frankly doesn't seem to deserve or appreciate me, will wane… and my interest in a foul-mouthed but utterly _sweet _boy… will only strengthen."

He tugs on her hair and nods. "I can wait a little while."

She raises a brow, curious and a little skeptical. "And what will you be doing in the meantime?"

He shrugs. "Being badass."

She laughs lightly. "A full-time job?"

"Part-time…" He reaches for her waist and tugs her close. "I gotta put some effort into making sure y'know you picked right."

Her hands wrap around his biceps and squeeze before she wiggles her brows suggestively, in a spot-on imitation of him. "I have no doubts."

Chuckling, he leans forward and presses his forehead to hers. "You sure you're ready for this, B?"

"Bring it," she murmurs. Her lashes fall slightly before she looks back up at him. "You realize I'll drive you utterly out of your mind with my crazy… That I'll likely talk way too much and you'll grow irritated with my many spiels about my future. That—"

"Babe," he interrupts. "I _like _your crazy and… I wanna be a part of your future." He shrugs. "So just make some room for me and I'll enjoy the ride."

Her lips part and for a moment, she's just speechless. "Well…" She clears her throat. "I think… I think that's a great idea."

He smirks. "Y'know what else is a great idea?" He raises a brow. "You… in _my _jersey… and nothing else."

She slaps his chest playfully. "I'll mark it on my calendar. Perhaps a month from now…" She nods. "Sounds like a fantastic monthiversary gift."

He frowns. "Monthi-_wha?_"

Reaching up, she drags her nails down the back of his 'hawk and shakes her head, amused. "I have so much to teach you, Noah…"

"'m totally listening," he mutters, leaning into her touch distractedly.

He's not. But whatever. He's got time. She's giving him another chance and she's already planning their monthi-uh-_whatever_… He's pretty sure that means she expects them to last a _month_. And dude, that's like twenty-five days _more _than their first go at this. Hells yeah! He's a BAMF at this romance shit. And to prove it, he leans in and kisses her, and she meets him with all that fire and passion he loves about her. 'Coz he can _handle _it like nobody else (suck on that, Hudson!). And when she walks out on to the field in that number one jersey, he smirks. 'Coz that's his girl and this shit's like, full of metaphorical _awesome_.

[**End.**]


End file.
